Strange Blood: The Fire Down Below
by PodSara
Summary: On her last mission as a SeeD, Selphie is stalked by a vampire. That's bad enough. Even worse? The vampire is none other than Seifer Almasy! Will she be able to destroy him or will she succumb to the darkness inside herself? Selfer


_Author's Note: Well, crap. Apparently, I uploaded the wrong file - the unedited back up, so not only was what got posted total crap, it was also only half complete. For the sake of continuity, I'll save the additional passages for the next chappy. Not that I want to, but I guess that's the way it is. _

_I don't know if it's any good, but I liked the idea of a Seifer/Selphie Vampy tale. Never written one before, but the idea was kind of irresistible. Just a word of caution - if I did this right, this story borders on the erotic, as most vampy tales seem to do, so if you're offended by that, turn back now. _

_Also, Selphie is kind of out of character. Seifer is too, for that matter. I'll probably get flamed for it, but whatever._

_Thanks for reading, and please, remember to post a review._

_Disclaimer: I don't own FFVIII. _

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**STRANGE BLOOD: The Fire Down Below**

_**A FFVIII Tale**_

**Chapter One**

_The Shadows Have Teeth_

It was one of those rare, balmy nights in Deling City, the kind that everyone comes out to enjoy because they don't happen often. It's either too hot or too cold to walk around just for fun, but tonight, it seemed winter had finally loosened it's grip and spring was close at it's heels. None too soon, either. Even I was enjoying wandering the streets, taking in the sights as I searched for my evening meal. The nice weather meant that lots of people would be out, and I would have a much more interesting choice of bodies to dine upon.

It was too early, for me to eat. Too many people around to witness it, but I was enjoying my little stroll nonetheless. These days, no one recognizes me because of the change, so I can roam about as I please, even if only under the cover of darkness. That's one benefit of being a vampire. We still look human enough to walk around in public without too much trouble. Most people mistake me for one of the junkies that like to hang around the strip, and that's cool with me. Let them think what they want. Besides. I was used to people being afraid of me. After all, I am, or _used _to be, the infamous Seifer Almasy.

Deling City is home to a lot of vampires, mostly because it's the city of night. The sun never rises here, so no matter what time is, we vamps can hunt as we please. It's much easier late at night, when there are fewer people around, but some of us like to hunt during the day. I myself prefer night because that's when all the freaks and wackos come out. I'm less conspicuous that way and the blood of the corrupt is what we dine on.

As I walked along the strip, I caught the scent of innocent blood. My mouth watered at the thought of what it would taste like. It had been so long since I'd tasted it, but I remembered the flavor well . . . But, I was educated now. I knew better than to take the blood of an innocent, no matter how tempting it may have been and no matter how much I wanted it.

See, the thing is, it's considered a crime among us vampires to take the life of an innocent one. I suppose I can understand why, There are plenty of screwed up fucks out there that deserve to die, and no matter what we may be in theory, we are not _completely _senseless killers. I guess that's hard to believe, but we do have a few morals left intact. By _we_, I mean the collective we: the vampire race as a whole, but that doesn't necessarily mean I agree.

Honor among vampires. Sheesh.

We're not supposed to turn innocents, either. By turn, I mean make them one of us. On the rare occasion that one _is_ turned, they rarely last. Most of the time, they commit suicide. I use the term _suicide_ loosely, since we are technically undead, and _suicide_ implies the taking of one's own _life_, but I think you get my point. Most of the time, unable to cope with the required actions to satisfy their indescribable hunger, these turned innocents will wait till sunrise and then step into the light.

_Poof. _I wish I could see it, just once.

It's what every vampire fears most. Except for maybe, the stake. Well, every vampire except me. I was still, at heart, the bad ass I used to be.

There is one important exception to the rule about turned innocents, and that is the boss. He'd been a Monk of Hyne before he was turned. For whatever reason, becoming a bloodsucker had agreed with him. I guess even the good can be persuaded to the dark side. Or maybe the story was only half true. Maybe he wasn't _that _good a monk to begin with. The scary thing is, he's the most evil bastard I've ever met.

And that's saying a lot coming from someone like me.

Anyway, there I was walking down that crowded street, tracking the scent of the innocent. I don't know why I followed her, since I knew I couldn't take her. How do I know this particular innocent was a _she_, you ask? Well, by scent of course. We vampires have extremely keen noses noses. We can scent out a serial killer in a room full of petty career criminals. We can tell male from female, the innocent from the tainted, just by scent alone.

I followed the girl. I hadn't sighted her yet, but I was getting close. The overwhelming perfume of innocence was growing stronger, and my hunger for it was overpowering all my other senses. I became obsessed with her. I had to find her, to see her, feel her heartbeat. I was filled with the need to have her, to drain her of every drop of blood in her veins. I wanted to completely ruin her.

Impossible not to think about how good she would taste, how sweet the fear in her eyes . . .

I spotted her after a few blocks, just as she ducked into an alleyway and out of sight. I caught a glimpse of brown hair and what appeared to be a long yellow sun dress before she vanished into the dark corridor. I wondered what the hell she was doing. She appeared to be alone, which was a little weird. Girls didn't walk the Deling strip alone at night, unless they were hookers or junkies, and they certainly didn't go into dark alleys alone either. I was almost as curious as I was obsessed, with the question of _why _burning as hotly as the need to make her my personal buffet.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness with ease. That's another cool thing about being a vamp. We can see in the dark. We can see what the shadows hide.

She stood alone at the end of the alley, her back to me, her face a partial profile. Her neck and shoulders were a milky white against the backdrop of blackness and the scent of her pure blood was driving me out of my mind. I knew If I stepped another foot into the alley there would be no turning back. I would take her, drain her and I would enjoy every second of it. I was sick with the need to have the taste of her blood on my tongue, to feel her thundering pulse between my lips.

For a second I hesitated. To go forward would mean I had to answer to the boss. He wouldn't take my transgression lightly. On the other hand, there was nobody around to stop me. What did I care what the boss thought? I wasn't exactly great at following orders anyhow. I never had been, and I never would be.

I moved toward her, silent as only a vampire can be. The closer I came, the more drunk on her smell I became. I was aware that I had bared my teeth already, though I was still several yards away from her. I focused on that perfect, slender neck. Never had I seen a more _perfect_ neck. It was as if she were offering it to me. It happened some times. Not often, but occasionally, a victim would realize what I was and become violently turned on, pleading for me to take as much as I wanted. Morons. They never understood that I wanted _all _of it.

Just as I was about to sink my teeth into her, she turned to face me, as if she'd known I was there all along.

Those green eyes were enough to stop me in my tracks. _I knew those eyes._

"Seifer?" Her face was a picture of surprise and pleasure, as if I were an old friend she hadn't seen in years. Weird that she looked happy to see me.

Well, I guess it _had_ been a few years since I'd last seen her, and we weren't friends. Maybe we used to be. Back when we were kids, we'd played together, but that was a long time ago. I was a different person now. Hell, I wasn't really even a person anymore.

The knowledge that I knew her was not enough to make my hunger go away. On the contrary. I wanted her more now than ever, damned be the consequences. I didn't care if she was a SeeD, or that she knew me.

But there was something _wrong _with this picture.

When I'd followed her here, I thought I was tracking an innocent. By my calculations, she was no innocent. She'd shed as much blood as I had, at least, as much as I had _before_ I was turned. She made her living as a mercenary. She was a professional killer. A gun for hire. A death bringer, like me.

_What the hell?_

"Seifer?" she asked and tilted her head to the side in that goofy, perky way of hers. "Don't you recognize me?"

All I could do was nod and force myself not to look at the vein at her throat. I could see it throbbing beneath her pale skin. I could hear her heartbeat. It was thunderous.

She was so alive and she would make a fine meal. But she was no innocent.

And the question was, why did she smell like one?

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I'd been wandering the Deling Strip, killing time before I met a client at the Galbadia Hotel when I got the feeling that I was being followed. I'd been sent to Deling City to investigate some strange deaths that had been occurring along the strip and in some of the more derelict parts of town. This was to be my last mission as a SeeD. At the end of the month, I would begin my new job as Head of Recreation at Garden. I was exited about the new position and I thought about all the new clubs I could start. The possibilities were limitless. And the first order of business was to finally get the Garden Festival off the ground. My head was full of ideas for fund raisers, events and all sorts of wonderful plans as I walked along the strip.

But then that sense of being followed struck me. It was weird. I've never gotten that feeling before, and it creeped me out so much that I picked up my pace a little and glanced over my shoulder every once in a while as I walked. I couldn't see anyone, not anyone obvious or anything, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone hot on my trail, and that person meant me harm.

Unsure of what to do, I slipped into an alley and waited. If I was being followed I would soon find out. Either my pursuer would lose my trail, or he would follow me here. Or, I was just being paranoid.

I waited for what felt like forever.

In reality, It was only a matter of seconds before the figure appeared. I could see him from the corner of my eye. He was tall, slender and dressed entirely in black. _How original_. Why was it that all thugs felt the need to dress in black? I've never understood it myself.

He approached silently, as if he was walking on air rather than through an alley that was littered with debris. His shoes should have made _some_ kind of sound, even if he was trying to sneak up on me, but they didn't. Not a sound that I could hear, anyway. Gooseflesh raised along my arms and on the back of my neck as he came closer. I wanted to run, but I stood, motionless, casual, as if I didn't notice. I wanted to know who he was and why he'd followed me.

Imagine my surprise when I turned to confront him and I realized that I was staring at a face from my past. He looked different, almost unrecognizable as the man who'd practically started the most recent sorceress war, the man most people thought of as a monster, but if I lived a thousand years, I would never forget that face. Once upon a time, I'd spent hours studying that face, first in person, and then in the photographs from the newspaper and magazine articles about him.

I don't know what my obsession with him was all about. It was a silly school girl crush. My mind had made him out to be something that my good sense knew he was not, even after the whole mess was over. Strange that I loved Irvine, but I fantasized occasionally about Seifer Almasy. Maybe it was the bad boy thing. Maybe it was because, as much as I cared about Irvine, he was full of dookie. He spouted poetry, brought me flowers and to a degree, he _was_ a bad boy. Maybe he just wasn't bad _enough_.

So there I was, in an alley, in one of the most dangerous sections of Deling City with Seifer Almasy, and for some reason, he'd been following me. I sensed that his intentions were not good ones, either.

I'd fantasized about this once. Meeting him in a dark alley, that was. I'll spare you the details and leave the rest to your imagination.

But that was just a fantasy. This was reality, and it was not quite how I imagined it. I hadn't figured in the apparent creep factor that goes along with being followed into a dark alley at night. He stood there speechless, and I inspected him and found his posture and expression worthy of suspicion.

There was a lot that had changed about him. He wasn't exactly the guy I'd fantasized about, not anymore. He was sickeningly pale and his green eyes were now a weird silver-gray that sort of . . . glowed in the dark. They made me think of the moon. They had to be contacts of some sort, and I didn't like them. He'd also dyed his hair black, which didn't exactly compliment his pasty complexion. I didn't like that either. Nor did I like the studded collar at his neck and leather cuffs at his wrists. In truth, he looked ill and half crazed. I wondered if he was a druggie, hopped up on some combination of stuff that had him completely whacked out of his mind. I wouldn't have been surprised if it were true.

"Are you ok?" I asked. I hated how timid and scared I sounded.

He closed his eyes and grimaced, as if he was in some kind of pain. The DT's maybe?

"Why are you following me?" I asked.

He reached out for me, his hand floated up toward my neck. His eyes were still closed and his face was still contorted from whatever pain it was that he felt. His fingers were cold against my skin, and I wanted to flinch away from his touch but something held me riveted there. He caressed my throat with his thumb and I trembled. My neck was _very _sensitive, if you know what I mean.

"Selphie," he growled, sounding completely unlike himself.

He opened his eyes, and he stared right into mine. His thumb slid down into the hollow of my throat and came to rest just above my collarbone. He moved forward, his other hand driving itself violently into my hair to cup the back of my head. My heart thundered in my chest and I felt a blush come to my cheeks as I stared back at him.

I had the oddest sensation that he'd somehow enchanted me. It was one thing to fantasize about something like this, and it was another to actually do it. My mind told me I should be running for my life, that I was crazy to let him touch me but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. The sick truth was, I wanted him. A part of me had to know what his lips felt like, what it would feel like to have him touch me everywhere.

Ok. So I'm not _quite_ the good girl everyone thinks I am. Don't sit there and judge me. I've got needs, too, you know?

His face inched toward mine and my lips parted, ready for his kiss. Our eyes were still locked and I became aware of a soft whimpering sound.

It was me. I was whimpering. Like a puppy. And I couldn't stop. I was one second away from begging him to take me, right there in the alley and he hadn't even kissed me yet.

He moved forward suddenly. The hand that had been on my throat slid down to the small of my back and he pulled my body against his. I cried out softly, shocked by how rough he was, and so _very_ turned on.

I thought then he was going to kiss me. I tilted my face up to his, expecting to feel his lips on mine, to finally know after all these years what it was like to kiss Seifer Almasy.

I wrong. Really, _really_ wrong.

Instead, he clutched a fistful of my hair and yanked my head to the side so that my neck was exposed. His lips were just as cold as his hand had been, but still so very intoxicating. Never mind that his tongue felt like a wet sponge. Never mind that this was all to weird and creepy and was a little too crazy to be real. Never mind that I couldn't remember _ever_ wanting someone this much.

His bared his teeth against my neck and growled. I shivered from the tingly sensation this caused and I clutched the back of his neck. I may have whispered his name, or maybe I only thought it. I was delirious. _Crazed_ with lust.

I felt his teeth at my throat, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough so that I could feel a gentle pinch. So he's a biter, I thought. Ok. Kinda kinky, but whatever.

After a moment, he ripped his head away from my throat, tilted his face to the sky and snarled. I don't mean he growled. I mean he actually _snarled_, the way a pissed off Red Dragon might when you slaughtered a couple of it's young, but the sound was far worse than that. I've never heard a sound more horrifying than that one. His fingers dug into my back and I opened my eyes, shocked and scared. I wanted to pull away from him, to run as far away as I could get, but his grip on me was so tight, that I couldn't move. For as thin as he was, he was, he was terribly strong.

I don't know what I expected to see when I looked up at his face, but I know I definitely didn't expect to see the sharp fangs that glistened in the weak light of the moon above. I didn't expect to see the fierce _hunger _in his eyes, like he wanted to eat me alive.

It was then that I realized that he wasn't trying to seduce me. _He was going to kill me._

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_Notes, Part two: _

_Now that you've read this, why not post a review? _


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